Snow White, Blood Red, Prussian Blue
by kakeinei
Summary: White that was once pristine, clean, untainted. Red too, she remembered. Pride and greed change people, but they blame it on war, pain, and sorrow; on the things they know cannot win favor over themselves. PruHun drabble. Angsty.


**A/N**: So I wrote this at 2:00AM in bed when I should have been studying for finals next week...I was scrolling through my folder of PruHun fanart and suddenly had an idea to write a sort of drabble/fic based on the pictures. This is my first time writing a fic about my OTP and the first time I've opened my writing folder on my desktop for nearly two years. I probably broke all rules of writing and my English teacher would probably weep if she saw my formatting haha. Recommend listening to Kodaline's High Hopes. And thanks for reading :)

* * *

White. White hair. White that was once pristine, clean, untainted. Red too, she remembered. Red eyes that sparked with power and passion like the fiery sun setting behind the mountains, the mountains they once climbed together. Red like the scarlet berries they had picked from the forest, hungry and lost, two children too innocent to understand the dangers and lurking shadows of the world.

They were the warriors of the world, accompanied by a faithful blur of yellow feathers, ready to conquer unexplored lands, slay dragons and leave behind a legacy that would last until the end of time. Their story would eventually blossom into young love; love that was reckless, wild and passionate. They would have songs written about their voyages, mothers telling their stories by a warm fire, young children chasing down each other on the streets acting out their adventures, unafraid to break the unjust rules of society and chase after their dreams. They promised to be there for each other at all times, for eternity. And during those peaceful nights, they could forget about the rest of the world, and paint their legends in the constellations.

Such innocent children they were; shrouded from the darkness of the world until the day he stood, his back facing her, a flag clenched in his hand. The wings were black knives, the tongue a vile representation of the lifeless corpses, the cross a crucifix of sacrifice. The faithful yellow bird of energy had been replaced by a vicious beast. Suddenly his red eyes seemed too red, too much like the red pools on the ground after a storm of human greed and pride. In that moment, she knew from the look in his eyes, that they would never be the same again.

He succumbed to the "elixir of life", as he claimed, but under her sharp gaze, his panacea was just the toxic fluid of liquor. He was irritable, and eventually plummeted into the pit of depression. Pride and greed change people, but they blame it on war, pain, and sorrow; on the things they know cannot win favor over themselves.

She is always there; the constant pillar of support from his brightest days to his darkest nights. Unwavering, she is the anchor that keeps him grounded, the only thing that keeps him from losing his sanity.

He showed up at her doorstep one night; wounded, bleeding, barely standing on his two feet, but not broken – he was never broken. No words were needed; the mere look in his eyes was enough. But the red flame of passion never died from his eyes, not even when his vision turned hazy, when she was no more than a blur, not even when he could feel himself fading, falling, slipping from the world, free at last to abandon the sorrow and misery of the world. He had too many regrets; he regrets not being able to spend the rest of their lives together, he regrets the pain she will have to endure, but he doesn't regret loving her. There were no goodbyes, no dramatic monologues of farewell, only a simple "Remember our promise", and he was gone.

She had known the dreaded day would arrive sooner or later, yet nothing had prepared her for the agony of losing him. But they were warriors; proud, strong and courageous. It was only until the sun rose; the dawn of a new day shining on her face did she allow her tears to spill, washing away the anguish and despair, mourning the loss of her companion, friend, lover.

White – frost from the coldness of his broken soul,

But never cold enough to freeze the warmth of his heart;

Red – dried blood crusted on the corners of the cross clutched to her heart,

The scars of war and death still raw and bleeding;

Blue – deep and rich, the color of trust, eternity, nobility;

The color named after him.

* * *

_Because if I made you cry, that means I have succeeded._


End file.
